


The Troubles of Marriage and the Father-in-Law

by Sijglind



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Gen, Loki is an annoying mother/father-in-law, Marriage, and so is your uncle, and your grand-parents, how to tell your fiance that your father is a god, norsekink fill, seriously the poor guy doesn't know what he's getting into
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sijglind/pseuds/Sijglind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a norsekink fill. The prompt can be found here: http://norsekink.livejournal.com/8802.html?thread=17946978#t17946978</p><p>To summarize it: Loki has a half-mortal daughter called Ragna. She lives on Earth and is about to get married to Tony (not! Stark), her boyfriend of five years. They are happy until the future Father-in-Law shows up and complicates things.</p><p>There will be a lot of confusion about Ragna's origins (Quote: "Did you know that in our homeland it's a custom for the husband to fight off wolves naked in the middle of winter to win the wife's hand?"), her family (Quote: "Mostly, when she got like that, I'd hand her a grandchild and run."), a fully-grown rampage of our God of Mischief and some expectations (“So when will we be expecting an heir?") poor Tony will have to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ragna is beautiful in all her strangeness. She has silky black hair and pale skin that is somehow exotic in California, where the sun always shines. Her eyes are green and expressive, and always glinting when she twists her thin pink lips into a somehow mischievous smirk. It was a kitschy (he doesn't like the word, but it unfortunately fits) idea, but Tony thought that it had indeed been love at first sight, at least in his case.

The girl had been hard to conquer, and that had it made even better, as frustrated as he'd sometimes felt about it. Tony knows that he is considered handsome with his lightly tanned skin, the broad shoulders and his blond hair cut (or rather _not_ ) into the typical manner of a surfer-boy. He has a charming and boyish grin, at least that's what he's been told, and there had been times he couldn't run fast enough to save himself from the wooing of countless girls. Nevertheless, he'd never been a womanizer, and could count his relationships on the finger of one hand (three so far). And finally, after many, many (many!) dates, two failed attempts to kiss Ragna, and a romantic (and rather kitschy – again that word) declaration of love she had become number four. If one would ask Tony, it could stay that way, and he had made it clear after two years by asking her to marry him. He had been twenty-five then, and that was a good age to settle down with a woman you can imagine to spend the rest of your life with, get some children (two boys), and grow old together.

But Ragna had said no the first time, and it had felt like he had been run over by a truck.

“Why?” he'd managed to choke out after a few seconds, baffled and hurt after she'd turned him down so swiftly.

“Because you don't know what you're getting yourself into,” she'd stated matter-of-factly, with a mixture of pity and a bit of resignation clouding her eyes.

Maybe he was a love-struck fool and should have given up after the first try failed, but he'd asked her a second time (“No.”) and a third, and finally, she had said yes.

“But don't say I didn't warn you,” she'd said, smiling fondly and had kissed him. The kiss had been great and breathtaking and afterward-- nah, I guess you know what came afterward... _or who_.

But, back to topic. Five days have passed since the third and successful proposal, and Tony is in high spirits which make his cheeks hurt from the grin he's always wearing. His colleagues and friends are teasing him constantly, because he has finally managed to tame the Scandinavian beauty after more failed attempts than is considered healthy, but he ignores it. He is happy, and Ragna is happy, too, and to him that's all that matters. Five years of a happy relationship and now a marriage – it is as if his dreams finally become true.

Tony slumps into his favorite armchair and sighs relaxed. “What's for dinner, Hun?”

He hears Ragna laugh and after a second she appears in the door of the kitchen, a lop-sided smirk on her face. She is as always breathtakingly beautiful, and Tony once again does wonder what he's done to earn this.

“You already sound like a husband,” she tells him and leans against the door frame, her hands crossed in front of her chest in mocked disapproval. “Better start early,” he counters with a grin, and she laughs again, loud and hearty, a sound that makes his heart jump with glee and butterflies explode in his stomach.

“As long as you don't forget who's wearing the pants.” And with a last mischievous but fond smirk she is back in the kitchen again. He means it when he calls after her, “Never!” and is rewarded with a chuckle.

Tony would like to stand up and go into the kitchen to kiss her brains out right now, but he's exhausted from work and his muscles hurt, so he simply lolls around in his chair and waits until Ragna emerges from the kitchen. She's taking cooking seriously, and he normally is shooed out as soon as he sets a foot into her precious halls of food-creation. So, no teenage-like-make-out-session for him now. But that's alright, and the delicious smell filling the room tells him that he will not be neglected for much longer.

It is then that someone knocks at the door.

“I'm getting the door,” he calls towards the kitchen, and Ragna answers with a hum of approval (at least he thinks it is meant as one, he could never tell when she's occupied with creating one of her wonderful dishes). Tony heaves himself out of the armchair when it knocks a second time, loud and more forceful than considered polite.

“Alright, alright, I'm coming,” he yells before who ever is standing on the other side of the door has the chance to kick it in. He can't help but wonder who the hell that would be and why they weren't using the door bell (because that's what the thing was there for). Maybe the police, or one of his friends, or maybe someone was having an emergency.

Honestly, he has expected many things when opening the door, but not _this_.

The man who stands before him looks as if he's coming from one of these strange medieval festivals, being clad in something that looks like leather armor, with heavy boots and even a ridiculous green cloak billowing around his ankles, and Tony can not help but stare. It takes him some time until he can regain his composure, and he doesn't like the wary tone his voice has adopted when he asks the stranger, “Yes?”

It's not until then that he sees the familiarity in his long black hair, the pale skin and the green eyes. He couldn't be... could he? Maybe he was a cousin or a brother, Tony thought, but Ragna has never mentioned anyone, so, who...? The stranger smiles at him, and he wants to smile back, but there is something in the green eyes that stops him before he can do so much as let the corners of his mouth twitch. 

“So you are the petty Midgardian that wants to marry my daughter,” the stranger says without even a hint of a question and a voice that is too soft and smooth to fit his harsh words properly. 

Tony swears he can feel his jaw hitting the floor. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, I'm in a writing fit.   
> Now you will learn why I named him Tony. ;)

 

He must have misheard. The guy standing in their door frame looks far too young for having a twenty-six year old daughter. And what the hell is a  _mid-guardian_ ?

“Father!” 

Nope, his ears are still fully functional, obviously. Tony turns around and looks at his fiancee, whose face goes through a lot of expressions more or less suitable for the moment; surprise, happiness, confusion, and annoyance. 

“Shall I remain standing on your door step, daughter dearest, and draw the rest of your prying neighbors' attention to us, or are you willing to invite me in?”

Tony is already stepping out of the way to let his soon-to-be father-in-law in, when Ragna, daggers in her voice, remarks, “You have not waited for an invitation to come here in the first place, so why bother now?”

They probably have not the best relationship, and he can see now why she had always avoided the topic of family. It's embarrassing, but Tony has to admit that he knows next to nothing about her parents or siblings (if she even has some). Maybe this was a chance and he'd better use it before it was too late.

“Well,” he starts carefully, since his fiancee's father still hasn't moved yet, and Ragna is glaring at the man with uncovered mistrust in her eyes. “Come in, then.” He gestures warily down the small entrance hall towards the living room, and the man steppes into their apartment without looking at Tony, captured in a staring-contest with his daughter. It feels like the anger is coming off Ragna in waves, and the air straight-out _hums_ with all the unsaid things between them. Tony feels (to say the least) uncomfortable, as if he's been caught in a silent argument between the two of them.

Ragna is the first to tear her eyes a way after what felt like hours (and Tony is sure he would never have endured those pale green eyes boring into his own for so long), and snaps, “fine. But I'm still getting married.” Somehow, Tony has the feeling that there has been a discussion between father and daughter without him even noticing it.

Because he can't think of anything other to say or do, and they are still standing in the entrance hall, and the tension is so thick it could be cut with knives and presented on a plate to be served as a daughter-father specialty, Tony extends his hand in greeting. The gesture is outright ignored, but the young fiance is glad that Ragna's father has at least not sneered at it. He seems to be the type for sneers.

But because Tony is nothing if not determined (his girlfriend can tell you a thing or two about it), he tries again. “Well, I'm Tony. Nice to meet you.”

Okay, the last thing was a bit of a lie, but protocol demands it, and well, maybe they have to warm up to each other first. Tony could understand that the man was a bit cold towards him, with him being engaged to his daughter and never having met each other at all. Maybe that is just his way of showing his affection.

“Loki, his name is Loki,” Ragna provides with a glance at her father that says _behave or I'll kick you out_ , since he hasn't offered a name yet. Loki just perks an eyebrow at her, but seems to get the hint, because he turns towards Tony now.

“Tony, yes?” he asks with a whisper of a smile around his lips, and Tony hopes that this might be a chance to knit a bond between the two of them, as weak as it might turn out. If the small smile is any proof, his soon-to-be father-in-law connected something or someone positive with his name. Maybe. Hopefully.

“I once knew someone carrying the same name,” Loki muses, eyes distant, the smile still present on his lips. Perfect. “I destroyed one of his buildings.” Oh...

“So, you're in the demolition branch?” He can't help but sound hopeful, and Loki gives him a full-grown and _evil_ smirk. “No.”


End file.
